


In the Spirit of Giving

by black_hat_with_bells



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-14
Updated: 2011-04-14
Packaged: 2017-10-18 02:29:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_hat_with_bells/pseuds/black_hat_with_bells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam and Elle meet and then spend their first Christmas together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Spirit of Giving

One night, Adam woke up with a girl under his bed.

Not just that: he had woken up to a sound of laughing. Initially he had the surreal horror that the bed was laughing at him. Then he realized he was mistaken.

The bed was more likely crying. It made sense with the springs.

He got up, believing that someone had had a power to make inanimate object…well…animate, and he was bloody well pissed off about it. How was he supposed to deal with this? He wasn’t going to deal with it. If the bed was animate, he’d have to put it down.

He wanted to sleep.

Adam kicked at it, and the covers fell off. He looked down through the metal and saw a figure. He flinched backwards because it was quite unexpected.

It was a girl.

He knelt down slowly, watching her. It was almost painful to see someone else besides a Company man or woman in this place: all nameless suits and gloves and covered faces and experiments. Glasses.

She was the one crying.

“Hello,” he said softly. The first time in awhile for that word.

“Hi,” she said, weepy. Good start.

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“From my mommy.”

He blinked at her. “…Well, that’s good. Most are. That’s nice and comforting.”

“Aren’t you from a mommy?”

Somehow that stung. Besides he’d rather not say too much. “I meant…” He sighed. Conversing was hard. He should have talked to himself to keep his voice up, his skills up. “Look, my name is-.”

“It,” she said, peacefully. “I know.”

“…I wasn’t away we were playing hide and seek. I’m rather easy to find.”

“No, Daddy says to always call people like you It. To help me do what I have to.”

The picture was becoming clear now, sharpening as he went back and forth with this girl. She must have a father here, a Company man, and she was special.

What could she do?

He felt a flash of desperate hope.

“Don’t call me It,” Adam protested, actually feeling threatened by the label and its power over him.

He hadn’t had anyone call him by his name in. In a very long time.

“Daddy said to…”

“He won’t have to know.” Appealing to every child’s sense of rebellion had its perks.

“What do I call you?”

“Adam,” he said. She waited and then to his surprise, sparked him. He merely looked at her, wondering if his cell would hold the scent of scorched skin. She looked back, surprised that there wasn’t more of a reaction. He could tell she was hungry for more already.

“Aren’t you going to ask my name?”

“No,” he said. “I was waiting for you to tell me.”

“Elle,” and then--. “I guess I shouldn’t have used my power.”

She was ashamed. He didn’t care for it on her. If he could admit depression—he was depressed enough as it is. He was good at lifting people up: his natural talent.

“Whenever you get into a mood, you come to me,” he told her. “It won’t hurt me.”

“Really?”

“Nothing does,” he guaranteed. She still looked doubtful, confused, and trapped in her thoughts. He reached out and lifted her chin up gently. He needed a hook, to keep her coming back. Her eyes were so blue. “Elle, you won’t hurt me. Do exactly what you want. This is your gift, what you can always use. And oh, will this one have its uses.”

Her eyes brightened. She reached out and sparked him. He barely felt it, but it was feeling something. He held up his hand and let her see his flesh heal. Took her hand in his, smirking slightly as she shocked him with awe.

This was his gift to her. Absolution. Freedom from real pain and consequence. He thought he was being helpful.

It wasn’t years later that he started to realize that---despite the experiments and her isolation-- he had been the one that created a monster.

But for the next few years, it was different.

She was different.

***

“I have it on great authority—namely my own—that Santa is real.”

Elle’s eyes were as wide as saucers.

“Yeah, you’re old enough to have met him!” she exclaimed. “Though Santa is older.”

“Oh really? You researched the sightings, checked the backlogs?”

Her face pinched up. True, he was being ungenerous this fine ….afternoon, evening, day…big white box time, he didn’t care. He crossed his arms smugly at her confusion, waiting for questions.

He always lured her back with the questions, and she always believed him.

“He has a beard.”

He frowned. “Elle, I would have a beard. But you’re my electric shaver,” he said. “That’s the only reason I don’t have one.”

…She did have her uses. Burning the flesh off gave the same effect as a nice shave.

“So?” she asked, her logic flawed. It was unnerving, at times, so he didn’t pursue it.

“At any rate, he’s real,” Adam pushed through. He wasn’t having a debate with an eight year old. Absolutely not.

“He hasn’t visited me before,” she said, her head tilted. “Why’s that?”

“I believe they even have a song explaining that one, Elle, you don’t have to ask me.”

“But you know…” She paused. “More. But I guess I’m bad then.”

He didn’t answer. He had brought up the undisputable reality of Santa Claus mostly to cause trouble. Bob could always lose a little more hair when his child threw a fit. And his day had been unpleasant—everything nearly was. So, therefore…she kept her head down. He watched her for a moment.

He would go for the story where Santa was fond of cannibalizing young children in the older stories, but...

She was eight. Not that everyone wasn’t a child to him but she had the advantage of looking like a whipped dog and selling the sight.

“Perhaps, this year, there will be a difference,” he said.

“I’ve been trying to be better this year,” she said, now optimistic. Suddenly. She did play games.

“Hm,” he said, amused. “We shall see in a few days, won’t we?”

“Yes,” she said, looking at him. “You know him right? He’ll come to visit you. Maybe I’ll be around but it’ll be kinda late…”

That put him right back into a sour mood. “Or I’ll put in a good word for you.”

She nodded. His mouth twitched. “Well, that depends if I’ve been good this year.”

“I could visit you.”

“If I’ve been good,” he continued, theoretically, “Alas, I’ll be gone from here. That’s all I want for Christmas.”

Elle looked concerned.

He was going to stretch this out for four days. “What do you want, out of very idle curiosity?”

“What does it matter?”

He glanced over. “Sometimes you have to ask, and you shall receive.”

“A necklace,” she said after some thought. “Maybe a heart one to match my lightning one.”

“How imaginative.”

“Thank you,” she said, and before he could correct her, off she went, assured in her rightness.

Huh.

***

Two days later, Adam was enduring the usual torture.

It was under water this time, in the usual metal tub. He always had to focus on something to pass the time—through the haze, the female doctor had a necklace on.

A heart shaped one.

He had listened a little. He thought about how awed and simpering she’d be…and he decided to entertain himself.

He moved his wrist, and he felt the cut distantly. The real tell-tell sign was the red water. He twisted his wrist and the shard got caught—permanent bleeding for now.

Adam faded in and out, watching the signs of her distress growing as the blood didn’t go away.

He felt himself pulled out of the water.

“I thought you told me there were no side-effects to that injection!”

“What have you—done to me…”

She screamed as he fell right in front of her, hands dragging liberally down her front. His hands caught—victory-the clasp broke.

She was still screaming.

“Murder…er,” he croaked, for effect, and groped along the floor, moving the necklace near the torture device that would be on tomorrow—electric current of ironies. But he always fell to the floor then too, and they’d check him today after this stunt.

He also got quite the view.

You couldn’t say it was a complete loss.

***

“I thought you were going to come and visit me on Christmas.”

Elle moped in. “I was bad. I gave a girl a shock, and she left.”

“Oh? So, she is still with us in the land of the living?”

“…She left,” Elle said, brow furrowed.

“I meant, is she…never mind.”

“You’re still here.”

“I suppose we both didn’t get our wishes.”

“I got one of mine,” she said, fiercely. “You’re still here.”

He stared at her for a moment.

“You know, it’s strange that you didn’t visit me. Because I could have sworn I heard the door open in my sleep…”

Elle looked up, sensing something.

“I’m a very light sleeper, and hardly ever mistaken in general. I wonder if Santa…” he had to force that one out…. “knew you’d be in to visit me eventually and left a gift here, somewhere.”

She got right to it, searching around the small space. Adam watched her, not budging an inch.

Elle approached.

“Now, what do you have to say to get me to move?”

“Please,” she said and jumped up like a little ball of electricity. He caught her in mid-air.

She frowned, and to not completely kill the mood, he motioned to the pillow. “That’s a good place to start.”

Elle threw the pillow aside—his eyes followed its arc.

“This is the one I wanted!!” she cried out, grabbing the necklace. He went completely still. The one she wanted.

“…The girl who left,” he said. “Was she the one who worked with me, who…”

She got rid of the girl so she could wear the necklace around without it being noticed. She had requested it in the hopes that he’d get it for her.

That was absolutely…new. Brilliant, really.

“Could you help me put it on?” Elle asked, after struggling with the clasp, giddy with excitement. This must have been a rare occassion of a personalized gift for her. He stared at her and laughed.

“You are good,” he said, meaning several things at once, and helped her close it firmly. “Happy Christmas, Elle.”

She beamed up at him, eyes bright.

“Happy Christmas, Adam,” she said, claiming his words with ease.

He was curious about what would happen next year.

Just a bit.


End file.
